Mysterious Taylor! (A John Deacon fic)

Brian's Visit

In her hospital room, Taylor was playing with the locket Roger bought her when she went back home after her first operation. She was tired of being there, doing nothing, suffocating because of her damaged lungs, and being examined. While she was there for nothing, John was home with Robert. Unfortunately, babies were not allowed in this section of the hospital. It had been one month since she stifled in the middle of the night; it had also been one month since she last saw her son.

She sighed desperately and opened the locket she was still playing with, in which was a picture of John and her at their wedding. That was when all that started. The first time her kidneys hurt. However, she wanted to turn back in time and live all this again. She wanted to meet John once again, to spill her beer all over him, to walk with him in the narrow streets of Soho, to kiss him goodbye after Roger drove her home with Suzy. She wanted to have breakfast with him at Paradise, and to hear him sing his songs shyly. She wanted to pick him up at the airport and listen to him telling her about the country he visited. She wanted to go with him to Saint-Malo, to kiss him and tell him about her feelings... To move to his house and marry him once again...

If she could, she would marry him everyday.

Taylor's fingers moved up to her face to wipe the wild tear on her cheekbone, but met her nasal cannulas instead. Oh, how she wanted to rip them off...

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Brian coughed and stopped his car. He ran a hand through his mass of curls and grabbed the bunch of purple flowers next to him. He got out of the car and locked it, running up to the big building facing him.

When he found himself in a huge white hall, with people dressed in white walking here and there, he headed for the reception desk standing under a big sign saying Reception. He pressed the flowers against him and cleared his throat, lightly leaning above the counter. There was a tired woman sitting behind it, scribbling things on a sheet of paper while taking a look at a file. Brian cleared his throat once again, and she lifted her chin.

“Excuse me, madam” he politely said, “I'm looking for a friend of mine, Taylor Deacon. Could you please tell me her room number?”

“What service is she in?”

“Oncology.”

The woman sighed and rummaged through a pile of papers for what seemed to be an eternity. She turned to the screen of her computer and made him repeat the name of his friend. After a few minutes, she found her name and sighed once again.

“Fifth floor, room 539.”

“Thank you, madam.”

He briefly smiled at her and headed for the elevator. The two silver doors opened bfore him, enabling him to get in; he pushed the button for the fifth floor and waited a few seconds until he got there. He was humming The Fool On The Hill by the Beatles, which got stuck in his head since he woke up, for no reason. He followed the signs in the corridors, leading him to room 539.

Once Brian arrived at the door and saw Taylor's name on it, he cleared his throat and knocked. He heard a muffled voice coming from the inside and got in. As he expected, Taylor was lying in her bed, all alone. She was lying on her side, back to the door, with her face buried in her pillow. She weakly took a look above her shoulder, and her face lit up as she saw Brian, fearing it would have been another doctor that would actually not give a shit about her state. Her dull eyes were now filled with a gleam of joy mixed with hope.

“Brian!” she said, her lips trembling.

Brian smiled and walked up to her, kissing her forehead. She tightly wrapped her arms around him, and did not bother holding back her tears. She sniffed and apologised, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. He helped her sit up and gave her the bunch of flowers without saying a single words. Sometimes, words were not needed to express feelings.